


One Last Gasp

by EthelPhantom



Series: Ethel's Maribat March 2020 [20]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Mari's not about to let her children stay dead, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Is the Best Mother, Mominette, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EthelPhantom/pseuds/EthelPhantom
Summary: Maribat March 2020, day 27: Time TravelChildren aren't supposed to die before their parents.That's simply a fact of life.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Bruce Wayne (background)
Series: Ethel's Maribat March 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650745
Comments: 36
Kudos: 269
Collections: Maribat March





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a new fic for you I couldn't resist writing. It was supposed to be a one-shot but then I realised there was no way to write it as such so,,, you're welcome. The Brucinette is there but is mostly mentioned so it's mostly Mominette.
> 
> POSSIBLE TW  
> Uh, there's a suicide mention in this chapter? It's nothing graphic or too big, but if you want to skip it, skip the next paragraph after the sentence "She couldn't erase that or his hazy eyes from her mind even if she wanted to." 
> 
> There's also a mention of a school shooting, and as we all know that can be triggering, too, in case you want to skip it, skip the next 1-3 paragraphs (only the first one actually mentions it but the next two continue the part of that) after the sentence "Jason might’ve not died in the first place."

_ Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws, _

_ And make the earth devour her own sweet brood; _

_ Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger’s jaws, _

_ And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood… _

_ — William Shakespeare, Sonnet 19 _

⬷۵⤐

Children aren’t supposed to die before their parents.

That was all Marinette could think of as she watched these strangers bury her family, the last of her children. The rest of them were already buried six feet under. Marinette had so wished she could save at least this one, that she wouldn’t need to bury Dick. She hadn't wanted to bury even one more of children and yet. _Yet._ She had thought she could see at least him grow old. He'd only been 27. 27 was not old. It was one thing to lose her husband in a battle, brutally murdered alongside their daughter, but another to lose all of the children she considered her own, regardless of whether they were already nearly adults when she’d first met them.

They’d all died off one by one. Duke had gone first — killed in a car crash. Marinette still remembered she’d been called from work to the hospital where she had watched the heart monitor slow down and the doctors declaring him dead. That had happened nearly two years ago. She hadn’t thought she would survive seeing his heartbeats slow down and stop, that she wouldn’t be able to go on, but she did, for a while. It wasn't easy and she had always missed him, but she had been able to go on.

Then fate had decided to destroy her completely.

Jason was the second one whose death the police had to tell her — gang fight he’d tried to stop. At least it was Jim that had found him so his name wouldn't be dirtied in the public. Marinette couldn’t get the sight of his body riddled with bullets out of her mind, nor the tears that had fallen down her face as she went to identify the body. It happened only a few months later. He had deserved to live longer than that.

Tim was the third to die — his health had failed. Why had Marinette not known about his missing spleen? He should’ve told her! Or maybe she should’ve noticed every cold and illness being so much worse on him than everyone else combined. The sickly paleness of his face was something Marinette had never wanted to see, least of all on one of her children. She couldn't erase that or his hazy eyes from her mind even if she wanted to.

The fourth to go was Stephanie — too much ibuprofen, too much alcohol, both at once. It happened a few weeks after Tim’s death. Suicide. Overdose of pills. Marinette hated herself for never noticing how her mental health declined and crashed down, hated the fact it hadn’t even been _her_ to find Stephanie’s dead body. It had been  _ Damian.  _ Regardless of how much the boy had seen death, he’d still only been a child and didn’t deserve it. All of her children deserved better than this. Even if Steph hadn't been her own daughter, she might have as well been, and Marinette hated the fact that she had failed Steph just like her birth mother had. Maybe she had been even worse than Crystal.

Cass was the fifth they lost. She actually died in the same fight as Bruce. Neither had been careful enough — all the deaths in the family had taken their toll on all of them, but to those two, it meant losing control, their need to survive and all common sense during battles; Then it meant dying. She’d carried their bodies home to be buried with Dick. It was still difficult, but she couldn’t ask Damian to help, it wouldn’t be fair to the young boy, and Babs was in a wheelchair. They had to make do. 

Four months later she had to hear about Barbara’s demise — the hospital she had an appointment at was blown up four months ago. She wasn’t Marinette’s child, not really, she even had a good family left, but that didn’t apparently mean Marinette considered her any less as a daughter. She had decided the 16-year-old girl with no good parents (though her uncle did a wonderful job) was as good as hers soon after she’d met her and began mentoring her up until she was paralysed and became the Oracle. Then Marinette had gotten to witness her mentor Cass and it had made her so proud. 

Now? Now she was dead. 

_ Why hadn’t Marinette killed Joker back when he killed her baby boy? _

_ Or when he paralysed Barbara?  _

_ If she had, Barbara would now be alive. Jason might’ve not died in the first place. _

Her youngest had been the seventh to go — there had been a school shooting and Damian had saved most of his classmates that he had kept saying he despised. It just told of his good heart, about how much he’d grown since he was brought to his father… and the fact guns really should be banned. There had been enough deaths already, hadn’t there? Marinette couldn’t forget the text she and Dick had gotten, a short message from Damian saying “There’s a shooter. I’ll see what I can do about it. Do not get involved, Mère, it might get worse if you or Grayson are seen here. The police has been called.” 

At least she had seen the message in time and been able to tell Damian she loved him one last time. She knew he had seen it because the next message she had received soon after had been “I know, Mère.” Then there was nothing after that until the police came to her door _once again._

He’d only been fifteen at the time.

After all of them, she’d sworn she would protect her last remaining one with all she had got — there was no way she could afford to lose  _ everyone.  _ Now she still had a reason to go on, a reason to get through each day, because she needed to make sure Dick would survive. He was strong, and with support and therapy, Marinette was sure he would. Losing everyone would always hurt, no doubt, but he would survive. He'd done it before too.

And then he’d gone out for patrol because someone had to and his grapple gun’s line had failed him less than a month later. 

He had pressed his emergency communicator so Marinette got a notice of it, and she got suited up in Cass' old suit faster than ever but she’d been too late anyway. He had still been breathing by the time she got to him but there was no chance of survival no matter what she tried — and she'd tried, alright. Eventually, he’d died in her arms, the last thing he’d said having been “I’m sorry, Mom.”

The first to come had been the last to go.

Marinette had no idea how she was supposed to go on now.

Watching, crumbling down as she could do nothing but mourn her lost children, Marinette gathered up her skirts and walked into the huge manor she now owned. She  _ hated  _ owning it alone. It was too big for one person, too empty, and the fact no voice other than her own would ever occupy the rooms of it again had her pack her things and leave. 

She would either return one day or she would give the manor away for children with no families. There were definitely enough rooms for such. 

Marinette travelled the country, finding places she’d never known existed before until she remembered an old story Tikki used to tell her back when she still had her miraculous. She had said that while the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculi used together would surely grant you your wish — though with them there would also be a sacrifice to pay in order to restore the balance of the world — there was another way to grant whatever wish you may have. There was a place called the Fountain of Life that would let you make a wish and it would be granted so long as the price was of equal worth, but that the price would be something the wisher could choose themselves and if the wisher wasn't okay with the price, it wouldn't be taken from them — though that also meant no wishes granted. That wasn't surprising. At least it wouldn't hurt the world and only the wisher.

That meant her goal of the destination ended up being the Fountain. Marinette let her instincts take her with them and followed that. For some reason, that meant she ended up in Texas of all places. She passed Jacob’s Well on her journey and considered diving into the chambers for a moment before reminding herself that she had a task at hand. 

After all, if she wasn’t there to save her family, who would? 

She ended up at the Ghost Tracks in San Antonio and shivered as she could feel the spirits of the dead around. They were kind, though, she was sure, so she wasn’t scared. With Tikki, she’d gotten used to feeling the dead who were forced to stay in this world for a reason or another around her, and even after she was separated from the kwami, the skill stayed. 

She spent a while with the spirits, talking to them even if they couldn’t reply back to her because she felt like they should be talked to. It wasn't fair people didn't talk to them especially since they were only children. She told them about her family and asked them to tell her family she was sorry if they happened to see them. Then she apologised to the little spirits for being unable to help them move on from this world into the next because she no longer had her miraculous. 

Eventually, she had to bid the spirits goodbye. There was a reason she’d come all the way to San Antonio from Gotham, and that reason was a Fountain calling for her in the forests near the tracks.

Passing the trees, she walked always deeper and deeper into the forest until she found what she was looking for. There, hidden in the middle of everything, was a place people most of the time naturally and subconsciously avoided like plague, and the most beautiful fountain was located there. The water ran clear and turquoise blue, fading into white as it hit the surface. Flowers and dragons statues made of rock surrounded it and the weather seemed to change all on its own — while it was cold and windy and dark everywhere else, here it was warm and calm, and the lack of the Sun in the sky didn’t stop the place from being illuminated by the warm shades red and orange. It was like it was dawn. There was a rock that resembled a seat in front of it all, and that was were Marinette walked.

“Uh. Hi, Honoured Fountain, I— I want to make a wish. Will you listen to me?” she asked, hesitating, as she sat down on the rock and crossed her legs. Marinette folded her hands on her lap, looking at the tranquil water right before it suddenly changed its direction and began moving unnaturally. 

Finally, it stopped. Mostly, anyway. The surface of the water rippled as though someone was tiptoeing towards her. There was a clear and bright voice of a young woman echoing around her, but not in a way that would bring her a headache. No, it was rather calming, actually. 

“Greetings, Marinette Wayne of the family of Dupain-Cheng, the last one of a long line of Ladybugs as well as the sole being with a soul of creation blessed by the goddess. Should you make a wish, I shall hear it, after which we may negotiate on the terms of your wish and the price of it,” it — she? — said, somehow knowing exactly who she was. It should have crept her out but then again, the fountain was  _ talking  _ and said to grant wishes, so it really wasn’t that strange anymore. 

“I was thinking… I want to save my family. I wish to bring them back to life without anything that will hurt them — no madness, no new pain, no new disabilities — old ones can stay, it’s not like we would have been able to do anything about them anyway —, in the fullest health they can be. I’ll give up anything for that except their safety,” Marinette decided. She was sure that was what she wanted, and besides, if she tried to specify it so that her family, her  _ children  _ wouldn’t need to suffer, it would have to make do. 

No matter the price.

And oh, she knew what the cost of a wish as grand as hers should be and she knew she didn't have enough but she had to try.

The fountain chuckled. “Oh, dearest. No. You have my sincerest apologies, but you possess nothing of worth equal to nine lives. One life isn’t as expensive as nine. It’s not enough. It would need at least 9 lives to bring them back.”

“Then… What if I offer you the Joker’s life? And Oswald Cobblepot’s? And the lives of Harvey Dent, Lila Rossi, Gabriel Agreste, Nathalie Sancœur, Ra’s al Ghul and Talia al Ghul. And myself, obviously. They deserve to die, and my family deserves to live. They’ve fought to help the those that these people have hurt and have stolen from, and four of them lost their lives to them. Some of them twice.”

There was a quiet hum and then chuckles. “Oh, but little one, if you sacrificed those you didn’t care about and those you wanted dead, it wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice, now would it? It isn’t your price to pay, it won’t cost you a thing if those eight people die for your family. You don’t possess anything you could save all of them with. Either leave or come up with something else, but knowing your soul is marked Tikki’s, I doubt you will give up on your family this easily, now will you?” 

They both knew the answer to that question was no. She would  _ never  _ give up on her babies. She would save them, no matter how high the cost. Marinette just needed them alive and safe.

Marinette sat there for  _ hours.  _ Wondering, suggesting things. 

“What if I had the time rewind? That wouldn’t surely cost as much.”

“No, but it would eventually lead you to this very situation. Reversing time has that effect even if you try to change the course of time. It wouldn’t help you.”

“What would I get if I sacrificed the happiness of my own bloodline?”

“Probably your family's ghosts haunting you forever. And the knowledge your bloodline lost all of its happiness for that.”

“What if I went back in time and saved them all one by one and brought them into this timeline?”

“This timeline  _ would cease to exist.  _ I doubt you want that either.”

It kept going on. She couldn’t figure out how to save them all, except…

“What if… Miss Fountain— Wait, what do I even call you?” Marinette had only now realised she did not have any name to call her by and it’d be easier if she had one. 

“Inochi.”

“So, Inochi, what if I travelled back in time and saved them there from the very beginning?”

“I am not certain I follow, dearest.”

Marinette thought about how she wanted to explain it for a moment before turning her gaze back to the fountain from the skies. “I was thinking, what if I travelled back, saved everyone one by one, staying in that timeline, just new changes to later times every time. Would that work? I would be able to save all of them so that they never ended up having to do what eventually got them killed. They would never find themselves in the situations that had them die.”

Inochi started laughing as the ground under her feet shook. Marinette shivered, cold creeping up her spine. “Oh, you are something, aren’t you. What would you pay for this idea of yours? Creating a new timeline completely and changing the course of fate is expensive, especially since we both know you’re asking this to save nine lives. You’d also be changing the lives of so many others and turn the course of time — it doesn’t come cheap.”

Biting her lip, she made her offer. “I’ll give up my life, and any memories anyone may have of me. They don’t need to know who saved them as long as they’re alive and safe. They can forget me and all I did for them once I’ve made sure they are no longer in danger.” A tear rolled down her cheek as she thought about the possibility of her family not knowing her but she knew this was a decision she had to make. “You can erase the memory of me from the world and take my life once I’ve seen all of them alive, but you can’t erase my existence as it would take back my actions. Or you can replace my memory with a memory of someone else. Anything.”

“That’s not enough. You would be changing the entire world’s story with what you’re asking to do.”

“It’s enough. I’d change it anyway regardless of what I did. I’m only doing this to save my children and my husband. I’m giving up my life, their memories of me, and my chance to ever be with them again. I’m giving up everything I have for them. It has to be enough.” 

A sigh. “Alright, I agree. You can’t just bring them back to life, but I will give you the power to alter the course of time and fate so you can save them for the price of your life and their memories of you. Does this sound fair?” Inochi asked. She hummed, waiting for Marinette’s response, and the wind started dancing with her song. It played with Marinette’s hair and almost spun her around, pushing her off of the rock. Marinette refused to move, though, instead trying to get a steady hold of it. The ground shook but Marinette fought even harder to stay upright.

“Yeah, it does. Can we make the contract or whatever you use to make this final?”

It was only then that the ground and the wind calmed. The water in the middle of the fountain rose up in the air and brought her a small cup full of clear liquid. Marinette lifted it up to her face and smelled it. It brought mint to her mind. Fresh, a little bitter. She brought the cup to her lips and drank it, and soon she realised she had become younger by maybe twenty years. She looked like 21 again — seven years younger than her oldest son had been when he died, 9 years younger than her oldest daughter had been when she did. It was a little disturbing. 

“This is not what I asked for.”

“No, but it’s what you’re getting anyway. It’s better for you to be in a younger body when moving around in the stream of time. That, and less of a chance for you to get caught. Now, take the cup and drink two cups of the waters of the fountain. Then I will grant you your wish.”

Marinette looked at Inochi like she was crazy before crouching down and scooped the cup full. She took a cautious sip at the liquid so sweet-smelling. Honeydew, if she had to guess. Not a lot of it, but enough for her to be certain she recognised the flavour. Inochi urged her to drink the rest of it and then a second cup. At least it didn’t taste horrible.

“My children… My Night… I’m coming and I’m going to save you this time around,” she murmured, taking one last gasp just before she lost her touch of reality and fell down on the ground, unconscious. Soon enough her body faded away. 

When she woke up, she was in the middle of a crowd running everywhere. Looking around, she immediately realised she wasn’t even anywhere in Texas — no, this was far from there. This place, she knew. 

In a way. 

Because this Gotham was cleaner and smelled fresher.

Marinette looked forwards, determined to make things right this time around, but first, she needed clothes fitting for the time period. After all, she had a theatre show to see.

⬷۵⤐

“Mushi-chan, you know the rules. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I do. She’s just fascinating, and besides, I’m also not allowed to tell her about us. That means I can’t really refuse her either.”

“You’re impossible. You better make sure she gets what she wants — I’m not losing her because of this.”

“I got it, sheesh. Now, megami-sama, let’s watch how the one you’ve blessed will be able to work when grief-stricken and determined.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random fact:  
> Marinette avoided going to the watchtower as much as she could and has literally been there only four times. The first time was when Batsy found out she was superheroing again (happened after she'd parted with Tikki) and dragged her there, though she didn't reveal her identity at any point. The second time was when Bruce and she were getting married and the JL wanted to meet her (they find out she was that superhero from earlier as well.) The third time was with Dick when Bruce died bc they needed to tell them, and the fourth time was when Dick died and she felt the need to inform the JL everyone was now dead, as well as break the news to Wally (bc in this house we don't let the speedsters die) herself.
> 
> Also if you don't know, the Jacob's Well is in Texas and it's a place where everyone who's tried to go to the chambers has died (probably bc they've gotten lost and it's underwater so y'know), that's why she decided against. 
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, I'll get back to this as soon as I can. 
> 
> You can find me on my [tumblr](https://ethelphantom.tumblr.com/) if you want to scream at me about DC, Maribat or Code Geass! I can also be found on my art instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/daicrimeth/?hl=en), so yelling at me there is also ok


	2. And Thus He Is No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm as surprised as you are of the fact I'm updating this so soon. Please don't expect it to continue like this.
> 
> Just saying, I'm using Batman Begins as the base for some of the scenes and things in this bc I liked it and it was easy to find all the scenes I needed from it rather than the comics (especially since the story keeps changing in the comics). 
> 
> Anyway, have fun reading!

_In all our wrongs_

_I want to write him_

_In a time_

_Where I can find him_

_Before the tears_

_That tore us;_

_When our history was_

_Before us_

_— Lang Leav, “Time Travelers”_

⬷۵⤐

When Marinette woke up with a gasp, trying to fill her lungs with oxygen again, she realised she was in the middle of a crowd running everywhere. Looking around, she immediately realised she wasn’t even anywhere in Texas — no, this was far from there. This place, she knew. 

In a way. 

Because this Gotham was cleaner and smelled fresher.

Marinette looked forwards, determined to make things right this time around. Asking for the time from a nearby passerby. 4.28. She still had about 6 hours left to turn things around. 

But first, she needed clothes fitting for the time period. After all, she had an opera show to see. 

...It was a really good thing she’d taken money with her, and money that she could even use. It would’ve probably been a bad idea to try paying for things with money printed after 2000. Or actually, money printed even after 1986 since everyone would consider it fake, even if for a very good reason.

The people shot her weird looks. It was understandable, she was still in the clothes from her time. Marinette could barely even remember how people dressed in the 80s and definitely not when it came to evening wear — she had been a child back then and not from a rich family like Bruce who saw a lot of it on a weekly basis. Marinette had grown up in a bakery, after all. 

“Excuse me, but I’d like to find a nice dress for the evening as I’m going to go to the theatre. My… husband is coming there with his parents,” she told the woman who asked her if she could help in any way. 

It wasn’t a lie, technically. 

It was just that her husband wasn’t her husband in this timeline and he would never become that either, not if everything went as planned. 

Approximately two and half hours later when Marinette _finally_ found something she liked and thought she could even properly move in — because most of the fashion was a catastrophe and unconventional here, and goddess she was horrified and disgusted —, she paid for the dress and left the shop.

It was a pity she wouldn’t get to keep the dress for long though. It would be a bad idea to go in it to a circus or the back alleys and streets where all the crime happened or a farm or some shady places in the Middle East. The dress had a long bottom of black silk that fell below her knees and a long-sleeved marble-like black and grey top. Marinette twirled in it, loving how it felt on her. It was a pity the only time Bruce would be seeing it on her was when he was _nine_ and that wasn’t going to mean anything. 

Marinette wished she could have just taken time back and given something less for it, such as her ability to walk, or her ability to speak. She knew she would've survived well enough, just like her daughters had done well regardless of their disabilities. They were one of the strongest and most amazing people she knew and their disabilities didn't stop them from being their best selves, and goddess, she was so proud of both of them. She had still wanted to see and have her family but she couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed to. It wouldn't work.

And god, she didn’t want to know if Bruce was going to marry someone else in this timeline. It was at least possible if not probable. She would have to know anyway. That was how the time was going to work. She wouldn’t be able to avoid Bruce forever after this day.

Just like she hadn’t been able to avoid him back when she’d actually met him for the first time.

Oh, that was the best mistake she’d ever made in her life. 

In her timeline, it would have happened 19 years from now. Her boss had called her to tell that there was someone interested in getting a new designer and obviously she’d said yes — the request had been for a personal designer by someone rich and famous. Marinette knew that would pay well. She'd only been working that job for a while and if the boss contacted _you_ with such a wonderful job offer despite your 'inexperience'? Of course, you accepted it without hesitating.

And then she’d met Mr Wayne and regretted said decision more than anything. 

How annoying did a person have to be? Marinette could _see_ that everything he was doing was an act, he was clearly a smart person who really, really didn’t care about how many watches or cars he had but that didn’t stop him from pretending to be a complete airhead who had no idea what was going around him and _he just wouldn't stop talking about his 28 watches that were silver and platin and had jewels embedded into them, nor did he seem to remember he’d mentioned his 12 cars about thirteen times already._ It was the most frustrating thing _ever._ And oh, so very disturbing, especially to someone like her who wasn't always sure she'd be able to pay everything she needed with her paycheck. 

It didn't matter that he and his company were the reason she managed to get a place to study at thanks to the scholarship Wayne Enterprises had granted her.

But he paid wonderfully and when asked if she wanted to continue working for him because Mr Wayne had apparently asked if he could have her quit her job to become exclusively his designer and _yes,_ he would pay her more than she got paid now at her job monthly, she had panicked and said yes. 

The third time they met after becoming his personal and private designer, Mr Wayne ended up — after only 16 minutes! — complaining about _how long she was taking_ while she was having his new suit fitted on him and needed to mark where she needed to alterations. Apparently it was because he had a hot date to meet at this great gala Ms Starr was organising and he didn’t want to be late. 

_Marinette had told him that the fitting was going to take at least two hours and it’d be better he reserved three hours just in case, and Mr Wayne had said he had enough time and yet._

After the sixth time she’d had to listen to him go on about all the riches he had and how amazing it was she knew how to design _and_ sew, what a marvellous talent it was, Marinette had snapped and stabbed Mr Wayne with the needle she’d had in her hand. There was a second of panic on his face that she now knew to be fear he'd been drugged before it was gone and he tried to start apologising for moving when she just put a finger up to silence him. 

“That’s enough! Pardon me, Mr Wayne, but I cannot stand you going on and on about all that when we both know you don’t actually care about how much money you’ve donated to a charity without apparently even knowing what the charity was for, or how many hot models you’ve wooed in the past three weeks, or how many parties you’ve thrown — _or attended!_ — so can you please just _stop?”_ Marinette set her needle on the table before she pinched the bridge of her nose sighing. “I would certainly either prefer silence or you talking about your son — Richard, wasn’t it? —, or maybe you can tell me what’s _actually_ happening in the Wayne Enterprises, but not whatever that damn act is. Not that one. I know you aren’t _stupid_ so stop acting like it.”

It was like a switch had been turned because the next moment there was no smile — real or fake — on Mr Wayne’s face and he just went quiet. It helped Marinette’s work and they were done faster than she had expected. 

So yeah, Marinette’s first impressions on Bruce Thomas Wayne had not been good _at all._

It was a wonder they ever ended up marrying one another.

It had them a while after that to become friends but she guessed that Bruce had decided it wouldn’t be _that bad_ after Marinette saved Dick and kicked his ass while she was at it. It wasn’t like it was even hard in the first place — she was a vigilante and had been a hero for at least four years back in Paris. Not that Bruce knew _that_ but still — it had made him realise she could probably take care of herself if something were to happen. 

She hadn’t gotten a very good image on Batman either — the man had first fought her, then seemed to stalk her and _then_ quite literally dragged her to a bunch of other superheroes and vigilantes who called themselves the Justice League. Marinette for her part had ended up criticising half of their costumes 

They hadn’t even gotten her to unmask herself. 

Batman didn’t get her to stop being a vigilante. 

A year later, Marinette had stormed into Bruce’s study, slammed her hands down on his desk and proceeded to yell at him for the next 45 minutes because he was even more of an emotionally constipated idiot than she’d thought because he dressed up as a bat and went to fight crime instead of getting therapy for the childhood trauma he had. _Then_ she’d informed him of her own secret identity (she’d been forced into her role as Ladybug in Paris when she was a child, and even after she lost Tikki, she hadn’t been able to stop because she’d spent too many years doing it, so sue her). A month or two later Dick had locked them in a closet (as though they wouldn't have been able to pick the lock) and told them they were only allowed out if they confessed, but better hurry up because Alfred was making lasagne.

Hearing they would be getting Alfred's lasagne certainly made the confessing part way faster.

So yes. It took them a year and a half as well as a 12-year-old little shit (she loved him anyway) that loved meddling with other people’s love lives before they started dating.

It wasn’t her fault. 

Reminding herself she needed to get a ticket to the show if she wanted to attend — even if she knew she wouldn’t be able to see much of it —, Marinette turned towards what would become Crime Alley in her time. If it became such again, it wouldn’t be this event that made it so. 

After arguing with the clerk for what felt like three hours but was only like half an hour (“No, Miss, you can’t just buy a ticket to this, you should have reserved a seat ages ago.” “Oh I know, but I was out of the country and couldn’t, and I only now heard about it. I know you have empty seats anyway.” “I am sorry you weren’t able to buy a ticket earlier but it’s too—” “I could pay you a ton of money if you let me buy a ticket.” “...” “Well?” “You’ve got yourself a deal, Miss.”), she — and okay, maybe Marinette was a little too used to being a Wayne because she didn’t even mind arguing or using money to get what she wanted, but she got her ticket and that was all that mattered! — had a ticket to the show between her fingers. Smiling, Marinette put it in her purse and produced a bunch of bills from there to give the clerk. She hated doing it because it was kind of like corruption, but then again, she needed it to save her family _and she’d do anything for them._

It wasn’t like this was going to get anyone killed. She hadn’t even committed a crime that she was paying officers to keep quiet of, she was getting herself a ticket to an opera show. 

Oh, and she needed food now. 

Once Marinette had eaten, gone to shopping a little (she had found such nice notebooks and a lovely brooch to use, and then proceeded to buy them all even if she wouldn’t have much time anymore) and gotten ready in general, she went back to the theatre and took a seat, watching and waiting to see the Waynes. It didn’t take too long which was good. 

Marinette’s breath got caught up in her throat as she saw Bruce enter. It was more than obvious Damian had been the spitting image of Bruce. She could feel tears prickling in her eyes as she watched the little boy walk down to their seats.

It was… a little sad seeing Bruce as a child. He was so small. Just like Damian had been when he came to the family as a ten-year-old, brought to them by his mother who had never treated him right. It was a wonder he grew so much. Would Damian have grown as much as his father had if he’d been given the chance to live longer?

And then she remembered what Bruce had told her about that night, why they had left in the middle of the opera. He had been _afraid._ As though on cue, the music got eerie and the dancers spun around in their black clothing on the ropes against the light — as though they were wild bats. 

_"Bats frighten me. It's time my enemies shared my dread."_

Marinette stood up and walked out of the theatre, making sure that she was able to fight in her dress one last time. If she couldn’t, she would have to leave it be because she couldn’t afford to die herself and not save her children. That, or she would need to turn time back again which she really would prefer not to do. She hadn’t liked today enough to do that. 

10:41. Only a few minutes left and she didn’t know where Joe Chill would come from. She would have to wait until he came up to them with that goddamned gun. 

The chill night air had Marinette shiver — she hadn’t thought of buying a jacket and her only jacket (which was from the 2020s) was now somewhere gone. God. She was going to hate this, wasn’t she? 

The door opened with a creak and a woman stepped out, her son and husband following behind her. She had a warm jacket in her hands that she pulled around herself as she addressed her son with a soft and concerned voice, “What’s wrong, Bruce?”

The man, closing the door behind him, replied for his son, “Yeah no, it— it was me, I just needed some fresh air. A little bit of opera goes a long way, right Bruce?” He looked at his son, winking, as though there was some great conspiracy going on, and the boy’s form clearly slumped, relaxing. Marinette smiled. Bruce had had such great parents. She just wished he’d never had to lose them. 

“Come on, let’s go,” he told his family, ushering them towards the main street, away from the alley and towards the warm glow of the streets. Marinette was glad she’d already walked there because it was already 10:44 — and then it turned to 10:45. Only two minutes left. Bruce between them, they walked in silence as a man came up to them. Thomas had barely time to look up at him as he had already pulled a gun on them. 

“Wallet. Jewellery. Fast!” the man snapped at them. Martha pulled her son closer to herself by his shoulder. Thomas kept his calm, talking to the man. 

“That’s fine. Take it easy.” He was just pulling his wallet out of his pocket as Marinette moved. She needed to do it _now_ or she wouldn’t have enough time. Without even a sound, she came out of the shadows and kicked the man in the abdomen with all her might which caused Chill to drop the gun. As he fell down on the ground, clutching himself, Martha screamed but moved in front of Bruce to protect him anyway. 

“Thomas, take the gun and _do not let go!”_ Marinette yelled, giving Chill another kick though this time in the groin, and thankfully Thomas actually obliged — maybe it was the shock of a moment and the fact someone had just stopped the mugging. Or maybe the fact she hadn't bothered with any honorifics, tossing aside any proper respect one would usually give Thomas _Wayne._ They didn’t even know _just how close to death_ they had been there. Bruce wouldn’t need to live a life full of trauma, coloured by the blame he put on himself for the rest of the eternity for the deaths of his parents. 

One last hard kick to the head ensured Chill wasn’t going to move anywhere before she dropped down on him and pressed down on his windpipe until the man went limp under her. Even after that, she kept her hand there for a moment longer — it wasn't like she cared about possible damage to his brain for what he had done, what he had almost done again. Marinette sighed out of relief. He wasn’t dead, so the Waynes wouldn’t be able to accuse her of killing anyone. She rose up to her feet and turned to look at her husband’s family— and yeah, maybe she should stop calling them that because it was weird since the one who was her husband was dead and this was still a child. 

“Are you all alright? Please call the police to take care of him, and no, you don’t need to mention me if you don’t want to. I won’t be here long anyway. Yeah, and if you can give the gun to me unless you know how to take it apart, that would be great. I want to make sure no one will be able to use it in a while,” she said, holding out her hand. Thomas looked at her and then his wife. They were silently communicating. Martha nodded and Thomas handed the gun to Marinette. It didn’t take her long to take it apart, though that wasn't too surprising. Both Bruce and Jason had made sure she would know how to do that if the need ever arose. She left parts of it near Chill but put the rest in her purse — like said, she needed to get rid of them completely. 

Martha nodded slowly at Marinette. “Yes, we’re alright now. Thank you, Miss…?”

“Marinette. Marinette... Dupain-Cheng.”

And goddess, it felt _wrong_ to call herself a Dupain-Cheng. She had never liked her birth family too much, all the while she _had loved_ the family she'd built with Bruce.

“You’re French?”

She seemed surprised about it. Marinette just chuckled. “Chinese and French, actually. I’m not from around here at all. I’ve just lived long enough in the States from young enough to have lost the accent. Mostly, anyway,” she explained, laughing a little. “I also had a wonderful teacher — no, wait, two. My kind of uncle and my late husband. Both were from here so I also got used to the Gotham accent.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss, Miss. You’re so young, too!”

“It couldn’t be helped, so I’m coping now. Trying, at least. Thank you though, Ma’am, I appreciate that.”

Marinette gave her a smile, straightening her dress to look a little more put together. Then she turned away to leave. She’d done her job. Waving, she walked towards the softly illuminated main street, but a voice calling for her from behind stopped her. 

“Would you like to come for a very late night dinner at our home? You might’ve just saved our lives and I’m very thankful. My family means everything to me and you might very well be the reason I still have it,” Thomas asked, locking eyes with her as she turned back. She thought about it for a moment, and only for a moment. 

“Yes, that would be very nice of you.” Her smile fell as soon as she’d said that. With a heavy heart, she forced herself to continue. “I’m glad to see you want to keep your family close — losing it is the hardest thing I can think of. Hold onto them as tight as you can, one day they won’t be there,” she replied. “You won’t even realise just how much they meant to you before it’s too late.”

“I’m supposing you lost family, Miss.”

“Yes, I lost… I lost my husband and all my children and our butler — he was more like a grandfather to our children and raised my husband after his parents were murdered, and if I’m being honest, he was definitely family — within mere three years. Not something I ever expected to happen, and I doubt I’ll ever get over it.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss. Is there anything we could do for you?”

“Unfortunately, no. Just keep your son safe and make sure he knows how to defend himself. He’d be… I’m sure he’d be good at Judo, Ninjitsu, Tae Kwon Do, Krav Maga, or good old fashioned boxing. Or maybe all of them. But have him learn at least one of them just in case.”

If she hinted at the fact her Bruce had known how to use all of them and blend them together, well, no one needed to know that.

At Thomas’ invitation, she followed the Wayne Family (and god she was regretting it already, she would need to return to the manor — even if as a guest this time — that she had meant to avoid for the rest of her life) to home, even if it was no longer her home. Marinette swallowed down the lump that had risen to her throat, biting back her tears as she could see life in the manor again. 

Alfred was just as sweet as she had remembered and she had to do her everything to not burst out in tears or try to hug him. This wasn’t her Alfred, so she couldn’t do that — at least not without explaining the rest of the story, and like hell she was telling Bruce or his parents that both Martha and Thomas were supposed to die that night and Bruce was supposed to first become an emotionally repressed idiot dressing up in as a bat and fight crime from his early twenties and then die about 20 years after starting. At least Alfred’s death had been understandable in her time — old age and the conditions they lived in did not go very well together, and considering he had been old back when Bruce was still a child, it was no surprise that over 30 years later he would not live anymore. The rest of them? Not so much.

The dinner went fine, and it seemed Thomas and Martha decided to let Bruce stay up a little longer (well, considering it was now past midnight, she supposed it was a little more than just “a little longer”) than they usually would have. It was nice getting to see how he was as a child before the trauma affected him, as it was to get to know his parents a little better. 

Before leaving, she asked to talk with Bruce for a moment. His parents looked at her a little surprised but let her as long as they were somewhere in sight so they could make sure nothing happened to their dear boy. Marinette had laughed and told them that it was more than fine with her and that she understood what they meant, she would have been like that with her own children when they were younger if strange adults asked to talk to them even if said strange adults had just possibly saved all their lives, and let Alfred find them a spot where they could talk in peace but so that at least one of the parents could see them at all times. 

“Hey Bruce, it’s nice to talk to you. I’m Marinette, though I’m sure you heard me telling that to your parents earlier,” she said, smiling, crouching a little to be closer to the same height with him. It was strange, she’d gotten used to either him doing that because he was so much taller than her, or then she would have had to look up at him. The height difference had been a little worse back then though — it was closer to half a metre than whatever it was now. “How are you feeling? That must have not been an easy experience earlier.”

Little Bruce shook his head. “It wasn’t. I was… It was a little scary but it’s okay now.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Say, could you keep a little something safe for me? It’s nothing bad or stolen, I promise, it’s just a small notebook with a date and place. As long as it’s safe and you come on the day to the place said on the first page, you can use the notebook, too. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to come anywhere anytime soon, the date is about 35 years from now, you’ll be much bigger and older then, probably bigger than me because I’m rather small,” she said chuckling before she continued. “For now, be a child and have fun and study hard, especially if you want to be a doctor like your father.”

Her request seemed to confuse him as he tilted his head and arched a brow. “Won’t you be super old then?” 

Oh, so that was what confused him the most. Well, maybe it was understandable — she had just saved their lives, a child would probably trust her a little more easily. 

It wasn’t like she was asking him to come anywhere anytime soon.

“Maybe. I’m not sure yet. Maybe I’ll be older than I’ve ever been before. I don’t know yet. Now, could you please take care of the notebook for me until you gave it back to me on the date I asked of you?”

Little Bruce seemed to consider it for a moment before stretching his open palm out for her. “Yeah. When?”

“The 27th of October, and the year would be 2021, at about 4 in the morning. So, long time till then. The location is written down in the notebook as well, but San Antonio, the forest near the Ghost Track, and walk to the place where you feel like you really, really shouldn’t go. I will be there on that day to explain everything.”

Marinette took out the notebook she had bought earlier after she’d eaten and handed it to the boy. “Please, take care of yourself and don’t engage in stupid fights unless absolutely necessary. If you’re not sure you can win, just run the other way. It's okay to not be the strongest.”

Once the boy nodded (and somehow, Marinette had a feeling he might have even been serious about it), Marinette gave him one last smile before straightening up. She ruffled his hair and laughed as he scrunched up his nose, but withdrew her hand. After all, if he didn't like it, he wouldn't need to be subjected to it. Damian had clearly been his son, they acted rather similarly at this age.

She let Martha hug her before tugging on the jacket Thomas had insisted she took since she didn’t have her own. It was warm and comfortable, and she thanked both of them for their hospitality. She turned to Alfred at the door and gave him a warm, pleading smile. 

“Please, take care of them for me. I doubt the Fountain of Life will let me save them again,” she told him as she was sure none of the Waynes was there to hear her words anymore. “Duusu said she missed you the last time I saw her. I’ll entrust her to you until either the guardian comes to take her or someone else to be trusted can be given the miraculous. Otherwise, it’ll end up in the hands of Gabriel Agreste who would force her to be used for evil as well.” Marinette watched Alfred’s stiff expression shatter away for a moment at the mention of Duusu before it was back and it was like neither had ever mentioned the kwamii. He nodded and Marinette pressed the brooch into his hands, wrapping Alfred’s fingers around it.

Then she finally turned away, giving one last salute with her hand, and walked down the steps and the road, knowing she didn’t need to get anywhere specific as long as she was out of sight.

She had a child to save.

The next time she opened her eyes, it was early evening in the centre of Gotham. Surprisingly, the city seemed cleaner than what she was used to, but she wasn’t complaining.

The newspapers sold at the kiosk next to her said something about Thomas Wayne welcoming his barely 26-year-old son, Bruce Wayne, as the new CEO of the Wayne Enterprises. He wasn’t wearing the smile of Brucie Wayne. Marinette smiled; She had managed to save one of them.

⬷۵⤐

"Well, would you look at that? She's clearly yours, coming up with all of this on her own. And damn, she's even trying to bring that husband of hers with her before she has to go. That takes some planning."

"Yes, she is cunning and smart. That's what made her such a wonderful Ladybug."

"Oh yeah, because you prefer her over everyone else. We got it."

"Mushi-chan, you know it's not like that."

"Sure isn't, Megami-sama. It's not like you don't spend half the time talking about her and the rest consists of maybe mentioning the rest of us exist."

"Mushi is right, Theá. You do seem to like her the best."

"...Not you too, Dýnamē."

"Hey, if you're calling Inochi Mushi, then I deserve to get called Paschalítsa!"

"You two are impossible."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, I'll get back to this as soon as I can. Hopefully (and probably, since I like writing this) that means within this month. At the very latest in May. I do not know either.
> 
> If you have any speculation or guesses on what might happen or what's going on, do tell, I'd love to hear it!
> 
> You can find me on my [tumblr](https://ethelphantom.tumblr.com/) if you want to scream at me about DC, Maribat or Code Geass! I can also be found on my art instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/daicrimeth/?hl=en), so yelling at me there is also ok


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